Violent Delights
by Faults of the Soul
Summary: Dragged into the chaotic world of Parisian society, Christine Daae soon becomes the obsession of Erik; a rich nobleman. Between the extravagant parties and vicious gossip, the line between truth and lies becomes blurred as she finds herself at the mercy of passion and pleasure. But of course, these violent delights have violent ends... Erik/Christine
1. Morning

**Violent Delights **

_These violent delights have violent ends_

_And in their triumph die, like fire and powder_

_Which as they kiss consume._

Christine slid her hand slowly down the window pane, marveling at how the world appeared before her in streaks as her fingers swept away the morning frost. It would be spring soon. The deep winter snows were already melting away to reveal the tips of fresh grass, and the air was starting to loose its heavy chill. The road leaving up to the manor was still white, fresh tracks revealing the frozen earth in crescent markings. She sighed deeply as the sun peaking over the distant hills, wishing for dawn to delay even a few minutes more.

A knock sounded lightly on the frame of her door, and Christine's breath hitched in her throat, tiptoeing quickly from her window seat. The cold wooden boards numbed her feet as she moved toward the bed, frantically slipping under the covers. Closing her eyes in feigned sleep, she heard the familiar creak of her door followed by a scoff. "Oh please, Christine! I know you've been up for hours."

Christine opened one blue eye, focusing on her brother's smirking face. She sighed in defeat, sitting up and leaning against the headboard."Good morning, Charles."

"Good morning." He said with a wink. He ruffled his blond hair lightly as he leaned against the wall, shaking his head as he looked at her. "Christine, Christine... I could have sworn you were seven only yesterday, but I guess time truly does fly. You still don't look eighteen, though." Her eyes flashed slightly as he mentioned her birthday.

"I'm a bit surprised you remembered, seeing how distracted you were with the Coulson sisters." She said sternly, her facade of disapproval at his flirting cracking as her lips twisted upward into a grin.

"I'm offended! Forget my darling little sister's birthday? What kind of scoundrel do you take me for!" Christine giggled, throwing her pillow at him. Charles, having closed his eyes in indignation, stumbled back as the pillow hit him squarely in the chest. He was about to throw it back at her when the faint sound of hooves interrupted their merriment, Charles groaning as it grew louder. "And that would be the Bellemonts."

"Already? I was hoping they wouldn't make it until noon!" He laughed, wiping his sleeve across the window to see out.

"Unlikely! They want as much bargaining time as possible with Papa. Those leeches won't stop at taking you to Paris! Oh no, they won't be satisfied until you're married with three sons!"

"Now, Charles, you know they mean well. They're just bored! You would be too if you sat around that estate all day with nothing to do but gossip." He still looked annoyed, his arms now tensely folded in front of him. "Besides, Papa has managed to keep them at bay for this long, so I doubt I will be leaving home this year." Christine looked away from her brother, trying to keep the disappointment from reaching her eyes. He still noticed though, frowning deeply.

"My god, you look sad at the thought of having to stay here! What's changed in you?" Christine looked back up, rushing to explain her reasoning.

"No, it's just that Charles, I'm eighteen! I'm eighteen and I've left the countryside once; and that was when Mother was still with us!" She paused as her brother's eyes saddened for a moment at her mention. Quietly, she continued. "I just want to see the city. I'd be gone for a few months, a year at the-"

"No, Christine! I don't trust these people! You're place is here, with Papa and I. You know it would break his heart to see you go..." She fiddled with her duvet cover, her fingers twisting in the material.

"I can't stay here. I know I'll always be your little sister, but you need to realize I'm growing up." Charles sighed heavily and she moved to sit next to him on the window seat. "I love you and Papa both very much, but you know I can't stay here forever."

"I know," he whispered. Christine wrapped her arms around him, patient as he slowly embraced her in return. "Promise you'll come back?"

"I promise." He kissed the top of her head, the two of them cringing as they heard a carriage door slam. "I'd better get ready. We have a _long _day ahead of us."

"We'll survive, even if just barely." He said, leaving her alone on the seat as he went to leave her room. Just before he shut her door though, he turned back, a look of sincerity in his eyes. "And... Good luck. I-I want you to be happy, Christine." With that she was alone. A small smile danced across her lips as she took in what Charles had said. Maybe if her brother could be convinced, so could Papa...

Christine stood slowly, moving to her wardrobe and pulling out a pale blue gown sparsely embroidered with little white flowers. Her hands shook slightly as she fumbled with the buttons, more nervous than she had anticipated.

The Bellemonts lived in Paris, just outside the city in a large manor called Linden Hall. They had a son named Jacques, but he had long since married and was now living in the south of France, in Nice. They were a relatively nice couple, although the absence of a daughter left them eager for the experience of raising one. Monsieur Bellemont had been a good friend of Christine's uncle, and after he moved away, they got to know his brother and two children. As supportive as they had been of Charles, they were more concerned for Christine's welfare and were anxious to start creating ties between the small family and the elite of Parisian society. Her father Gustav had resisted thus far, thinking her too young for such things. Out of respect, the Bellemonts had backed off. Now however, as Christine grew older, they were becoming more persistent on the matter, wanting her to at least come live with them in the city for a short period of time.

Christine hastily put pins in her hair as she heard the front door open, settling with her hair half up in a bun. Smoothing the skirt and inhaling deeply, she made her way down the hallway, Madame Bellemont's shrill laughter present as she descended the stairs.

Madame Bellemont was a slender woman with sharp cheekbones and squinted eyes. Her graying hair always pulled up in some extravagant style, with a brightly colored hat or feather accenting it. She was incredibly rich and wanted it known, dressing in vivid hues of reds, purples, and blues. Today she wore a turquoise gown and shawl, a gaudy broach too heavy for the fabric weighing down the upper right corner. A thick layer of kohl blackened her lashes, and red lipstick coated her thin mouth. Next to her husband, she resembled something of a peacock, his muted tones doing nothing to help the image. Monsieur Bellemont was a short, stout man. He usually wore browns and greens, and although he did not always have the best eye for matching, all of his suits and shirts were well made and tailored to fit him perfectly. They were an odd looking couple to say the least, but Christine was convinced they were were well meaning people, even if her father wasn't as sure.

As Madame Bellemont laughed and hugged Christine, she was overwhelmed by a hideous amount of perfume coating the woman, trying not to cough as it burned her throat. Monsieur Bellemont smiled from where he stood, clearing his throat quietly. "Happy birthday, my dear girl!"

"Ah, but she is a woman now!" M. Bellemont corrected, beaming at the statement as she pulled out of the hug. "You've raised a fine daughter, Gustav!" She said, turning to Christine's father.

The corners of his mouth twitched upward, slowly warming into a smile as he embraced his only daughter tightly. "Happy birthday, Christine." He whispered. Christine smiled as he kissed the top of her head, smoothing her blonde hair. "So!" He spoke, pulling away and clasping her hands lightly. "What did you have in mind for today? Anything you wish to do, you need not even ask!" He looked at her expectantly and she glanced quickly out a window.

"Well, I was hoping to go for a walk while it's still morning... If you don't mind, of course!"

"Done! Dress warmly, though. It is not spring quite yet, and we can't have you becoming ill, now can we?" This time, it was Madame Bellemont who spoke up, her shrill voice filling the room.

"Illness would certainly not do! Not do at all!" Christine flinched slightly, knowing the conversation would soon turn to the topic of her going to Paris. Kissing her father on the cheek, she moved to slip out the door, reaching for her cloak as she went.

"Goodbye, Papa!" She curtsied as she passed the Bellemonts, nodding her head in respect as she eagerly left them to their arguing.

Stepping outside, Christine let the cold air fill her lungs, reveling in the smell of damp earth as the morning sun shone on her face. Fastening the clasp of her coat, she headed down the path, the gravel crunching beneath her feet as she walked.


	2. A Decision

**Chapter 2**

"You wish to leave?" Christine stared down at the floor, her hands clutched tightly behind her back. Her father sat at his desk, a deep frown out of place on his gentle face. The room was silent save for the creak of his chair as he leaned forward, resting his thumbs on his lips. She could feel his eyes on her, but she dared not look up, dared not meet his gaze. She knew what she would find, and she feared her conviction would crumble beneath that look of utter disappointment. Keeping her eyes focused downward, she took a deep breath. _You can do this, Christine._

"Yes, Papa." She said, digging her thumbnail into her palm in an effort to silence useless reasons on the tip of her tongue. The room felt unnaturally warm, and she wished she had extended her walk, let the winter morning cling to her a while longer. It was too late for that though, and she had to remain focused if she was to get through this. He sighed quietly and she glanced up quickly, skimming across his face for a mere instant before returning her stare to the floor boards.

"Why do you wish to abandon us, Christine? Have we not given you a good home?" He paused, the silence unbearable. "Do you hate it here so much?" Christine flinched at the bite in his tone, rushing forward to where he sat as she met his gaze.

"You know that's not true!" He looked away from her suddenly, Christine frowning at the action. "Papa, please! Is it so wrong for a girl my age to wish to see even _part_ of the world before she marries?"

"You are so sure you will meet a husband in the city?!" He asked in bitter astonishment.

"I don't know, Papa! I just don't know! But don't you see?" She asked, imploring his gaze as she placed her hands on the top of his desk. "That's exactly why I must go. I have lived a life of routine for eighteen years! I want adventure, to experience life to its fullest before I settle down!" She said in whispered excitement, as her stare moved to the window. Gustav shook his head head slowly, a small chuckle reaching his lips before he quickly silenced it. "What is it, Papa?" He let out a defeated sigh as he patted her hand.

"It's nothing. You just reminded me so much of your mother just then. She had that same glint in her eyes, the same wonder and passion for life..." A pang of sadness came over Christine, a painful longing darkening her eyes for a brief moment. "Do not mourn her now, Christine. She would not want you to be sad on today of all days." She nodded slowly, and his mouth formed a sad smile as he leaned toward her. "You have her eyes, you know. Your brother and I, we were so unfortunate as to have my father's eyes; and such a dull shade of brown they are. But you Christine, your eyes are full of the sea! The sea... which I regrettably realize you have never seen..." He drew away from her then, standing up and smoothing his vest. "Which is why I have only one thing to ask you." She looked at him quizzically, his expression serious as he stared into her eyes. "Are you sure you want to do this?" Christine's face broke into a smile as she hugged him tightly.

"I've never been more sure about anything in my life!" He hugged his daughter tightly, knowing he could deny her nothing as she whispered a frantic thank you to him. When she pulled away, she looked more at ease then she had in weeks.

"Well, if you're positive, then I guess I really have no choice." She smiled up at him as he took a deep breath. "I hope you're happy with your decision... But if you're not, you will _always _have a home here. Do you understand, Christine?"

"I do, Papa." He gave a small smile, gesturing towards the door.

"Good. I'm sure the Bellemonts will be anxious to hear your news... Are you ready?" She nodded, following him out of his study. Her heart pounded furiously with excitement. Unaware of the sadness entering her fathers eyes.

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"Christine? Christine, did you hear what I said?" Christine blinked quickly as she tried to regain focus, giving an apologetic smile. Madame Bellemont stared expectantly at her, waiting for her explanation.

"I'm sorry, Madame. I'm a bit tired this evening." Pushing her dinner plate away, she drank heavily from her glass in an effort to focus her thoughts. The cold water did not clear her head the way she had hoped though, and she fought the urge to glance towards the end of the table again at her father. "What were you speaking of?"

"Just that you will of course need new gowns once we reach the city!" Madame Bellemont eagerly replied, Christine's lack of attention before instantly forgiven in her excitement.

"Oh, but that won't be necessary! I have too many gowns already..." She said, taking the opportunity to look back at Papa. There was a distance in his eyes that concerned her, and he had hardly spoken two words since dinner had begun. Not to mention he seemed to have lost his appetite as well. Madame Bellemont scoffed, smiling widely as she continued.

"My dear, there is no such thing! We insist! As soon as we arrive, I will take you to my personal tailor and fit you for _five_ new gowns! Oh, won't she look marvelous?" She asked frantically, her husband nodding with enthusiasm. Christine unwillingly turned from her father again, plastering a fake smile on her face as she spoke.

"That is very kind, but you've done too much alre-"

"I've already made up my mind, Christine! There's no use trying to dissuade me!" She interrupted, her husband quickly chiming in, laughter in his voice.

"It's true, my dear. Once she has her heart set on something, all of Paris couldn't change her mind!" Christine's smile weakened slightly, not wishing to be rude, but wanting desperately to learn what was darkening her father's mood.

"Are you ill, Christine?" Madame Bellemont asked, watching closely as Christine took a sip from her glass.

"No, Madame. I can assure you I am in good health, just a little tired." Still not convinced, she lay a wrinkled hand across the girl's forehead, feeling no fever.

"Well, maybe you should retire early this evening... Just in case." She said, pursing her lips. Monsieur Bellemont frowned at this, yet nodded in agreement.

"She's right of course, although I am rather disappointed. I was hoping you would sing for us this evening." Charles laughed heartily from where he sat, gulping down the rest of his wine.

"There's always time for a song!" He said, jumping up and moving to where Christine sat. "Father? Shall we move to the piano room?" As he spoke, he quickly pulled Christine's chair back, pulling a startled Christine to her feet.

Gustav merely glanced up, nodding slowly as if he hadn't really understood. "Fine, fine." Charles led the Bellemonts into an adjacent room, Christine hesitating as her father did not rise.

"Papa, will you not join us?"

"What?" He looked up, a bit startled at her presence. "Oh! Not this evening, Christine." She frowned, starting towards him. He held up his hand though, stopping her from coming any closer. "Please, go enjoy your night. I-I think I'll just retire now..." He rose from his seat, slowly leaving the dining room.

"Are you sure you're alright?" She called up at him as he took to the stairs.

He quickly dismissed her concerns with a wave of his arm, not even looking back at her as he spoke. "All is well, my dear. All is well."

A slight frown still on her face, Christine turned and walked to their music room, unable to keep from smirking at Charles. He sat, poised and ready on the piano bench, smiling back at her. "What key will you sing in this evening, Milady?" Rolling her eyes, she she walked up to the piano as he stretched his fingers dramatically.

"Move over, Charles. You can't play a single coherent tune on that instrument and you know it." Laughing, he moved off the wooden bench so she could sit down. He trotted over to where the Bellemonts sat, offering them a each a drink before sitting down with a brandy. They waited patiently as Christine played the opening bars of instrumental, drawing in a full breath before singing the first line of melody.

Any tensions she had been feeling that night seemed to melt away as she sang, the distraction easing her troubled thoughts so that they were merely a gentle hum in the back of her mind. Her voice soared as the song pushed her into her upper register, a light vibrato touching the notes. She had never claimed to be a proficient pianist, but even with the occasional slip of her fingers, her confidence did not falter. The end of the ballad was soft, leaving the air with a quiet peace.

Her mind thrummed with the echoes of music, every connecting thought momentarily taken from her. Only the applause from Monsieur Bellemont invaded her numbed senses, drawing her gaze upward from the ivory keys. Her limbs felt heavy as she closed the piano lid, and her balance wavered slightly as she stood up. Anything the Bellemonts said was lost to her, and she merely nodded when their lips paused. Luckily, Charles seemed to notice her lack of presence, jumping into the conversation.

"You look exhausted, Christine! Why don't you retire, and we'll discuss everything in the morning." He said hurriedly. She looked up at him slowly, nodding slightly in understanding.

"Yes, of course... The morning..." She was grateful that the Bellemonts had lost their focus on her, and she nodded in Charles' direction, mouthing a thank you as she exited the room.

Ascending the stairs, Christine felt abnormally tired. Living in the country, they did not see many visitors, and the added company would have easily explained her exhaustion. At least, it would've if it weren't for the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach... It was an apprehensive feeling that plagued her, as if something was not quite right. Everything felt different, as if the day had thrown the world off balance. A frown settled on her face as she fought to sort through her muddled thoughts, but nothing seemed to make sense. And as Christine entered her chambers, she took solace in her father's words_. _She repeated them over and over in her mind as she got ready for bed, clinging to them as her eyes drifted shut with sleep. _All is well, All is well, All is well, All is well, All is well... _Unbeknownst to her, many years would pass before she would hear her father's voice again.


End file.
